


Never Judge a Book By Its Cover

by janvandyne



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Library Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janvandyne/pseuds/janvandyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You weren’t planning on getting laid today, but if the hot librarian wants to fuck you between the bookshelves, then who are you to complain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Judge a Book By Its Cover

Hottie librarian is back again today, standing behind the reference desk looking as adorable as ever. You’ve been sneaking peeks at him from over the top of your book for the better part of half an hour, taking in a different part of him each time, as if you haven’t been visiting the library every other day for the last two weeks just to check him out.

You’re not a stalker or anything, but hottie librarian has to be the most _gorgeous_ man you’ve ever seen. He has pale blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses; messy, chocolate-brown hair; and legs for days. His soft sweater is pulled taut over his broad chest and he has the best looking arms you’ve ever seen wrapped in baby blue cable knit.

 _Bucky,_ the librarian had said his name was when he was signing you up for a library card two weeks back, his voice deep but gentle; quiet so that you had an excuse to lean in closer to him. He had looked up at you when you told him your name, those light eyes shining over the black rim of his glasses. When you smiled at him, his cheeks flushed, and that was it. You were gone.

You take one last peek at Bucky, watching him as he talked to a white-haired older lady who seems just as infatuated with him as you are. You smile to yourself, because how can a man with arms big enough to hold you up while he pounded into you and a face _made_ to be sat on be so shy and soft and sweet?

You sigh and rub your thighs together, heat pooling at your core as you think about him. Would he always be this demure? Would his cock flush just as pretty and pink as his cheeks? Would he be bashful and blushing as you rode him, those beautiful blue eyes looking up at you all coy and kittenish? Would his voice be just as gentle when he moaned, those pouty red lips open in pleasure?

You moan at the thought, and you don’t know whether you did it out loud or in your head, but it’s enough to snap you out of your fantasy and you realize that you’ve been staring at Bucky that whole time. He glances at you, cheeks rosy, and yep, great, he noticed.

You could kick yourself. It’s obvious enough that you’ve shown up there nine days out of the two weeks, sitting at the same table on the first floor so you can drool over hottie librarian. But now he’s caught you _actually_ drooling, and that embarrassment is enough to prompt you to get up and make your way to the elevator so you can find the book you went there to get in the first place and never come back.

When you make it to the top floor, you go directly to the aisle where your book is. You look up at the book and scoff because _of course_. You look around to make sure no one’s watching, because you’ve been embarrassed enough for one day, and then you stand up on your tip toes, arm outstretched to try to reach the book that’s just beyond your fingertips.

A warm body presses up behind you, making you jump and swear, but the person doesn’t move, just leans in closer, practically draped over your back, and grabs the book off of the shelf for you.

“Sorry,” Bucky says when you turn around, blushing a bit but otherwise not looking all that apologetic. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smile at hottie librarian and take the book from his hands, but you can’t do much else. There’s bookshelves behind you and Bucky in front, really big and really close, and damn, smelling _really_ good.

You clear your throat and lean away, the back of your head bumping into the shelves. “No, you just – I didn’t think anyone else was up here.”

“There’s some people over there,” Bucky tells you, motioning with his head, “but no one ever comes over to this corner.”

You nod and hold up the book up. “Alright, well thank you.”

You take a step to the side, but Bucky is right there with you, his chest pressing against yours, pushing your back flush against the books. You feel his hard dick against your stomach, trapped behind his jeans, and you instinctively roll your hips into him as a wave of arousal surges through your body. 

You weren’t planning on getting laid today, but if the hot librarian wants to fuck you between the bookshelves, then who are you to complain?

“Do you need help with anything else?” he asks, voice low and eyes twinkling. He grips the shelves on either side of your head and leans in closer, letting his mouth drift over yours and you can feel the soft brush of his lips as he speaks. “Because I’ve noticed that you’ve been checking out more than just the books.”

His eyes close as soon as he stops talking and he lets go of the bookshelves, takes a step back and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was so lame. ‘Checking out more than just the books.’ Get it together, Buck.”

“No, wait!” you call out as he begins to walk off. He turns back to you and cocks an eyebrow. You smile and say, “That was cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah,” you reply and reach out to grab his sweater. You fist it in your hand and pull him toward you. “Really, _really_ fucking cute.”

He obviously wants you and you damn sure want him, and you’re not about to let this opportunity slip through your fingers, so you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing your mouth against his. 

His lips are soft and just as sweet as you imagined, supple and pliant, parting slightly so he can run his tongue across your own. Bucky’s hands come up to cup your jaw and they’re so big, so warm. He covers your cheeks with just his palms, and that really shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does but _damn_ , can this man get any more perfect?

He steps back, lips still moving more and more passionately against yours, and walks you backwards toward the end of the aisle. You jerk to a stop when the back of your thighs hit a table, and Bucky pulls away to look at you. He bites his plush bottom lip and smirks, then lifts you up by the waist to sit you on the table.

He steps between your parted thighs and you reach out to put your hands on Bucky’s belt, fingers quickly working to undo the buckle then unbutton his jeans. His palms are on your thighs, hands sliding up under your skirt while he kisses and nips the side of your neck.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since you first walked through the door,” he whispers, his voice deep and rough in your ear. “I’ve been thinking about it every day – holding you up against the bookshelves and pounding into you, bending you over one of the tables and getting my hands on that perfect ass.”

“Bucky, fuck!” you moan. “Where did a sweet boy like you learn to talk like that?”

He chuckles. “Aww, you think I’m sweet?” he asks, and you nod your head, smirking.

Bucky puts a hand on your chest and guides you back so that you’re lying down on the table. You bend your knees and put your feet on the table too, spreading your legs wide and pulling up your skirt so that it bunches up around your waist. Bucky wastes no time in grabbing your panties, sliding them down your legs until they’re off of you, then stuffing them in to his back pocket with a smile.

You’re wet already, squirming and arching against Bucky when he bends down to kiss your lips again, the rough denim of his pants rubbing against your sensitive core and _fuck_ , you don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life.

“Do you want it sweet, babygirl?” Bucky asks, mouth hovering over yours. “Or do you want it _rough_?”

You moan as he speaks, getting more and more pleasantly surprised as the time goes by. Bucky is nothing like you imagined. He’s neither bashful nor coy, at least not right now. He’s bold and confident, sexy as fuck, and as much as you like sweet, blushing Bucky, you like this Bucky that much better.

“That’s what I thought,” he says even though you don’t verbally answer, but he _knows_. You must have it written all over your face. Bucky is big and broad, his whole body strong, and you just want him to _take_ you, have his way with you and use you in any way he wants to.

Bucky kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, the hinge of you jaw, and then right below your ear. Two of his fingers find your lips and he slides them in, pulls them out, pushes them back in again and fucks your mouth when them.

“Get them nice and wet for me,” he says. “That’s it. Good girl.”

You moan and writhe beneath him, closing your eyes and sucking his fingers as if your life depends on it and maybe it does, because you feel like if Bucky doesn’t fuck you soon, you may just _die_.

Bucky pulls his fingers out of your mouth and reaches down to find your clit. You nearly come off the table when he touches you, your whole body vibrating as he massages you with a few firm circles. He stops, way too soon, and you whine in displeasure, but then he slides his fingers down and sinks them into your tight, wet cunt. He twists and bends them, strokes your walls, thrusts them in and out of you until you’re just a puddle beneath him, begging and pleading for him to just _fuck_ you already.

Bucky obliges, pulling down the waist of his jeans just enough so that he can free his cock. He gives it a few strokes while looking down at you splayed across the table beneath him, legs spread and ass waiting right on the edge. 

Bucky rubs the tip of his cock against you, from ass to clit to get it wet, then slowly sinks inside of you. You almost jerk off the table, head thrown back and hands scrambling against his soft sweater. He’s hard and hot and so fucking _thick_. He stretches you wide and stuffs you full, grips your hips and buries his face in your neck.

“Sssh, babygirl,” Bucky moans into your neck. “You gotta be quiet for me. Be good. Fuck. So good. Fuck!”

You didn’t even realize that you were making so much noise, so lost in what Bucky’s doing, how you’re feeling, that you forgot even where you are. Bucky draws his dick out of you, then pushes in, does it again and again, pumping in and out of you with quick, hard thrusts.

“Shh,” he says again, laughing a little into the crook of you neck, then he pulls back and covers your mouth with his hand. With his other hand, he tugs your shirt out of your skirt, pushes it up to expose your breasts. He plays with your nipples through your bra, pulling and plucking them, and after one particular hard pinch, you come.

Your cries are muffled behind his hand, and his fingers show no mercy on your aching nipple. He pinches harder and leans into you, grinding his pelvis against your throbbing clit as he works you through your orgasm.

When you come down, he takes his hands off of your mouth and breast so he can grab you by the shoulders and pull you toward him on every thrust. He lifts one knee and sets it on the table so he can go deeper, yanking you back every time his hips push you away. He does this over and over, fucking you harder and harder until it’s just a shallow tug and pull, Bucky barely sliding out of you before slamming back in again.

“Fuck, babygirl, you feel _so_ fucking good,” Bucky groans. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna –”

Bucky pulls out of you and give his cock a couple short strokes and then he’s coming, spilling hot and thick all over your stomach. He leans forward and catches himself with his free hand on the table beside your hip, still jerking his dick and moaning ever time his hand brushes over the tip.  

He finally stops and he stays like that for a few moments, head fallen forward and thumb just barely caressing your hip. Then, slowly, he looks up at you, that same gentle blush on his face from before. Not for the first time you think about how fucking _adorable_ he is, but then he gives the back of your thigh a sharp swat and you cry out in surprise before giggling.

“And to think,” you say, “all this time I was thinking that you were shy and sweet.”

The corner of his mouth turns up, mischievous, before he grabs you and flips you over, swiftly and smoothly pressing you face down against the table with your feet on the floor. He leans across your back and gives your earlobe and gentle tug with his teeth.

“Oh, babygirl, you should’ve learned by now: never judge a book by its cover.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Comments are always welcome!


End file.
